Archive for the 'Sucks like a vacuum' Category

Good morning, sunshine

September 16, 2008 | Filed under: Growing up is optional, Oh The Stupidity You'll See, Sucks like a vacuum

“You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.”  ~Walt Disney

Being over the age of 18 should come with a disclaimer: “WARNING: This shit might get expensive” or “WARNING: May feel like having something rammed up your ass every third day” or “WARNING: May feel tingly sensation, nausea and vertigo when you look at your credit card balance” or “WARNING: Dumb ass PAY YOUR FUCKING PARKING TICKETS”

Very well sums things up

May 28, 2008 | Filed under: Sucks like a vacuum

“To give vent now and then to his feelings, whether of pleasure or discontent, is a great ease to a man’s heart.”  ~Francesco Guicciardini

It’s currently 11:59 AM and just 20 minutes ago I decided to head downstairs to get my first cup of coffee for the day and then I remembered the greek yogurt and banana extravaganza I had sitting in my bag and hmm, perhaps I should think about eating in general. I am the last person on earth to just casually miss a meal and coworkers are actually afraid to speak to me until I’ve had coffee. I’m usually the one to suggest that perhaps intravenous lines of coffee might be the wave of the future so someone – but not me because I’m too damn lazy – should look into that. And the above has been my regular course of action for the last several weeks though peppered with the occasional bouts of huzzah and cheek hurting smiles to almost make me forget how god damn sad I’ve been.

I was recently told that writing things out in such a public forum is just a barometer of feelings at that very moment. And it’s true that I’m just admitting my honest feelings tentatively and over a layer of apology. Despite each bit of good that happens and the number of hours I spent sunbathing over the weekend and the way cold Riesling feels on a perfect summer day, there are an equal number of times where I get hit by this wave of sorrow coupled with stupidity. It’s like walking at a normal speed, whistling while I work only to accidentally run into a wall. Though normally I would just keep on walking after hitting that wall instead I am jarred back to my rightful place upon the Throne of Misery.

While it might be true that while pain is a necessity in life but suffering would be option and it is also true that I deserve each and every single day of perpetual sadness (Karma Strikes Back!) I would not be in such depths of suffering if I didn’t feel like I was just sinking in it with no way of getting out. I’ve been good at not inundating everyone around me with how incredibly difficult and tiring every fucking day has been because it’s boring and unnecessary and who the fuck complains when generally speaking things are just swell? I mean I’m excellent at that shit but I’ve been trying to keep it to a minimum as of late so as not to disturb the readers.

But it’s so overwhelming and powerfully so that it’s hard not to just burst at the seams and say I am sad. I am so fucking sad and miserable and I’ve started eyeing my Lexapro seductively and saying “You and me, kid. Make me proud!”. I talk to plastic pill bottles and if that’s not completely pathetic then I don’t know what is.

So I’ve totally turned into that girl that I used to loathe and pity. The girl who gets all melancholy and weepy over some stupid guy and then whines about it. And of course there is a bigger story and I would love nothing more then to tell that story and then perhaps act it out on a very special episode of General Hospital, it’s just that fucking sordid and good. But I seem to have my limits and the dam has been broken and admitting that I’m now the sad and pathetic girl who forgets to drink her beloved coffee is a big step for me.

Which brings us back to the coffee. I’m just sitting here sipping it with The Boss playing in the background and ready to get out of this pity party for one and wishing that time would just move a little bit faster.

Clichéd

April 29, 2008 | Filed under: Mmhmm That's Right, Sucks like a vacuum

“If you’re going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill”

You know things aren’t going well when after buying out Ann Taylor Loft you sit in your car listening to Kimya Dawson while inhaling Coldstone ice cream. Ice cream that you haven’t had in like three years and yet it’s made a strong comeback into your daily intake along with other liquid dairy products and excessive amounts of high fructose corn syrup, meanwhile every second sitting in that car, you can feel yourself about to cry and yet you don’t or can’t or perhaps you’re afraid that someone will see you and then question why you are sitting in your car crying in the middle of the afternoon. Because don’t you have a job or something to go to? So you sit and sit and feel like crying but you don’t cry and this process repeats itself for days until you finally find yourself moping at work and then eating your weight in naan and saag paneer while your mother sits across from you and wonders when you replaced with your mouth with a fantastic Dyson sucking mechanism. In between sips of root beer – which has also decided to make itself known once again – you say, “It’s personal” and look rather forlorn and she gets the menacing look like ‘who just fucked with my baby’ so you smile and say “I AM FINE” so that she doesn’t go around the eastern seaboard slashing tires.

From then on you decide to fake feeling just fine! And great! Even though on the inside you feel like someone has been kicking you with the business end of a golf shoe and my, when did spikes get so sharp and pointy? You quickly tire of hearing that things take time and distance and ice cream but this time and distance shit suck and ice cream only makes you bloated with a fat ass which makes you thankful for empire waists but still! Who will want you with a bloated and fat ass? This, you contemplate for days on end while simultaneously pretending to listen and pay attention and care and have normal conversations with dignitaries while your mind is far off and so you keep drinking wine and then spend two solid days inside until one day the voice of Carrie Bradshaw reverberates through your head via seven hours of Sex and the City and you realize that you’ve become a fucking cliché. More importantly you realize that you are not the first or last person to become desperately heartsick so you can either go back to your normal activities and stop eating your weight in dairy and Jack Daniels or you continue on with your sad and pathetic behavior even though others might not think it all sad and pathetic but rather normal even though one person has allowed you to “keep up with this shit” for a few more days. You mull this for a second and decide on normal. The next day you go to the gym and return to a diet of seaweed salad, sushi, soymilk and flavored seltzer. You have a conversation without crying, you make plans with several of your favorite ladies and to also log more airplane time.

And life moves on, as it should.

Pain and Understanding

April 23, 2008 | Filed under: Sucks like a vacuum

“I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had.” - The Wonder Years

When The Break-Up came out I remember asking a friend of mine the requisite questions that would determine whether or not I should really spend the GDP of Djibouti on a movie. Her response was that it was funny and “realistic of a real break up” in that both sides found no issue in stopping at nothing to prove their former significant other wrong, to get back at the other side and to be as stubborn as possible while doing so. My response was dubious at best, for why would anyone want to drag out a break up? Why fight the inevitable? And what the hell kind of relationships are people in where when the end comes they aren’t doing a jig and smoking a peace pipe when it’s all over? There has never been a relationship that has ended when I haven’t fallen on my knees to thank God because why must you dip your fries in mayonnaise and chew with your mouth open? WHY?

(The mayonnaise dipper is married to someone else now. Once again; thank God!)

In my mind it bared close resemblance in absurdity to people who when asked about their relationships could only reply that it was ‘complicated’. The hell? What is complicated? You are either in a relationship with someone or you are not. And you can bet your pretty ass that the person that you are all ‘it’s complicated’ over is pretty damn sure one-way or the other as to the state of your relationship so the complication is probably in your mind.

I like for most things to be pretty clear-cut as it saves me from having to deal with endless piles of bullshit. Of course I believe that many things have a gray area but for the most part quick and dry would be my preferred way of dealing with situations. So when I found myself on the other side, the side when I could go back and forth for weeks on end spewing vitriol and only being able to refer to a relationship as ridiculously complicated, annoyingly so, well then I felt like an ass. I felt like an ass for rolling my eyes or questioning why a friend would and could feel so strongly about something that was torpedoing towards demise. I felt like an ass for not even trying to be understanding because there is no way to understand a situation involving the intricacies of a relationship until you find yourself in the throes of its ending while crying into dairy products. In the last several months and weeks no milkshake or caffeine laced frappuccino has been left unscathed.

Having seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall over the weekend and watching poor Peter Bretter get over the titular character while being a poor schmuck pining away and crying, I kind of get it. Because I am totally that girl who has had numerous crying jags over the smallest things. There have been evenings when I’ve been at my most pathetic and drinking anything and everything in the house because what else would all that leftover brandy from eggnog making be staring at me for? It wants for me to partake even if it is through annoying tears of pain; the pain of allowing exactly one person determine exactly how well my day would go. Of course in hindsight I’m in a lot less pain and instead there’s anger for allowing myself to get to a point where I’m feeling so utterly shitty because of ONE person. I very recently said that I am not a crier – honestly – and if I do cry it isn’t over the opposite sex it’s because of a death or because there is no more vodka left, but never over a male. That is when a friend told me that while I probably don’t cry over men, it is entirely possible to cry over love. And with that I cried some more.

Keeping most of this trauma inside has been a lot more difficult than I thought but I had to because it’s not just about me. There is an entire other person who has been hurt and upset and for every instance that I can point out his harsh behavior he can point to that time I threw a tantrum in the middle of Farragut West (Tourists! Come to DC to see the White House and the crazy, screaming lunatic!). I also needed to go through all that has occurred while wondering if this could really been my life. Unfortunately it has been my life and probably something that was inevitable that I go through: Heartache. Though not complete unrequited love. In fact if it were unrequited love I am sure that my life would be easier right now. And that I wouldn’t get out of bed only to get back in it 15 minutes later because the tears! Anyway this shit hurts. It’s an indescribable pain that probably will not cause irreparable harm and yet the last month has been one of the most painful things that have occurred in my short little life. Right up there with my sophomore year when I found out the hard way that I was severely depressed except this time there is no medical reason or diagnosis. Nothing makes heartache go away except for time. TIME. Not xanax not vodka not several shots of patron and a pitcher (or three) of margaritas but time. (The proper response here would be: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck)

A few years ago a friend of mine had a particularly bad break up and then came to visit me in Spain. She made me stay with her in her hostel because she didn’t want to be alone. I rolled my eyes but obliged. In the middle of the night she was still pining away and questioning her decision for a break up and complete separation and I remained silent while thinking “get the hell over it already”. It had been like three days. She told me that I didn’t understand because I couldn’t understand. Of course she was right and now that I do understand I really wish I couldn’t.

The worst

April 16, 2008 | Filed under: Inebriated prose, Just asking, Sucks like a vacuum

“Have you ever been hurt and the place tries to heal a bit, and you just pull the scar off of it over and over again.” ~Rosa Parks

I just asked this on Twitter but I figured that it was too good to limit the endless possible answers to 300 some odd people. For the record I don’t even know 300 people. I don’t even know 30 people. But if you want to hear about how I can tie a knot with a cherry stem or that cherry blossoms make me sick, then be my guest and do follow. Pull up a chair and I’ll give you every asinine detail of my life. I’M A GIVER.

So here goes: What is the worst pain you have ever felt?